Echo of Tomorrow: Book One (Drake chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

  “That may be true, Scott. But what we have to do is concentrate on the here and now. We can try and put the bits back together once we have the… strength to do something about it.” Thankfully, Brock didn’t say exactly what he meant, just in case someone was listening.

  “True, but I’m not entirely sure where to go from here.”

  “From what I can see, you got us a deal to get us a place to work at least.”

  “Did I? I agreed we’d fight these aliens for them, but I haven’t a clue as to what I’m up against.”

  “We’ll just have to work on that, General.”

  “With what? The President hasn’t realized it yet, but I’ve just sold him a pig-in-a-poke, and one of these days he’s going to wake up and realize it.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “Who knows? I can’t believe they don’t have some way of neutralizing us. Gas or something.” Brock scratched the top of his head, standing beside Scott and looking out at the darkening city. He wasn’t even sure where in the world they were, not having thought to ask until now. Where ever they were, this was supposed to be the new capital city of the whole world.

  “We’ve got about five hundred trained Marines here, General. That’s a start.”

  “True, but what can five hundred soldiers do against god knows how many aliens. Five hundred soldiers without weapons I might add.”

  “Look at it this way, General. You’ve kept us together, got us a place to live, the promise of support so we can build the weapons, so from what I can see, it’s a great beginning.”

  “You know these people are all Muslims, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  “I’m wondering how long it's going to take them to figure just who we are, and what we did.”

  “Not a pleasant thought, but…” Brock paused and looked around as he placed his hand over his mouth, “once we have the weapons, wouldn’t it be prudent to decide who we are going to war with, General?”

  “I follow your drift, Gunny. If we have them, and these people don’t...” He let the rest hang.

  What could five hundred heavily armed Marines do to a society that didn’t have any weapons, or the knowledge to build and use them if they did? It was a tempting thought. He could set himself up as king, or emperor. It wouldn’t be the first time in history a small, powerful army had taken over a country, look at what Pizarro did to the Inca Empire with a handful of men. In this case, it would be the whole world. In the end, he brushed the thought aside. He was no king, nor did he have the desire. He’d made a promise to the President of this world, and unless he broke his word, then he would keep his.

  “We go with the deal, Gunny.”

  “Had a feeling you’d say that, sir.” Smiling, he stepped back and cut Scott a salute. Just then, both heard a sound they hadn’t heard in a very long time, at least from their prospective. It was the sound of the Imam calling the faithful to pray. As the call sounded out over the city, an Idea struck him. They both looked towards the sound and grimaced, Brock’s jaw working hard.

  “Did all those Marines and soldiers die for nothing, General? Brock muttered. Scott shrugged, unable to answer the question.

  “Instead of putting these assholes out of business, we seemed to have had the opposite effect.”

  “But how?” Brock asked. Scott looked pensive for a moment.

  “Look, not matter what we thought of all the jihadist, there were a lot of very smart people running things behind the scenes. Who’s to say they didn’t see an opportunity and take it? Think about it. Look what happened during and after the so-called ‘Dark Ages’. The Roman Catholic Church took over with a vengeance. Within a hundred years they were practically running the whole of Europe, and we both know what happen then.”

  “Yeah, it steadily got worse, from the twelfth century onward first the Jew, then the Protestants, then the inquisition and the mass executions by burning at the stake or, auto-da-fé. Once they, or any religion take over power, the abuse of that power get worse. I can see where they exploited that opportunity to place people in key position, and once there set about taking over. It wouldn’t have taken long under the cloak of secrecy and the end to get rid of weapons to get rid of anyone who disagreed, or stood in their way.”

  “But to the level of enslaving their own women?”

  “It was already there in our time, Gunny. In a lot of Moslem Countries, a woman was property with all sort of restrictions on what they could and couldn’t do. Just project that forward three hundred years of absolute power and this is what you get.” Brock looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “Guess you’re right, General, it just boggles the imagination just how entrenched this whole ideology has become, yet it makes me think that maybe not everyone agrees.”

  “You mean an underground of some sort.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Could be, but with the level of control these people have, something on the order of the old KGB under Stalin, or what went on in North Korea, anyone that steps out of line get crushed, or sent off to some sort of ‘re-education’ camp.”

  “Might be something worth looking into, once we get settled.”

  “Might be.” Scott mutter, his mind elsewhere.

  “Gunny… sorry. Captain Brock,” he corrected, “I want you to put a quiet word out for all the Jewish members in our flock to meet me here in two hours.” Brock gave him an odd look, but he didn’t elaborate.

  * * * * * *

  Getting things arranged wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined, and two hours later, fifteen suspicious men and woman gathered in a Skinners old living room, which was the number Scott remembered from their 201 files.

  “Thank you all for coming and I know you all have questions to ask. Hopefully the dining room will answer that question. At a gesture from Scott, they followed him into the dining room to gather around a long dining table.

  “I realize that some of you might be non-practicing, but for this one evening I’d like to invite you all to participate, please sit.” They did, looking around, still wondering what was going on. Scott picked up a lighter and offered it to Pam. Do you remember the words, Pam?” She nodded, unable to speak for the moment as she walked over to the two candles set in the center of the table representing the dual commandments to remember and to keep the Sabbath. Pam carefully lit each candle and then waved her hands over the candles, welcoming in the Sabbath. Then she covers her eyes, so as not to see the candles before reciting the blessing.

  “Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to light the lights of Shabbat.” The Amen around the table was almost a whisper. Pan uncovered her eyes and looked at the candles, completing the Mitzvah of lighting the candles. As she finished, Scott picked up a silver goblet and held it up.

  “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam shehakol nih'yeh bid'varo for borei p'ri hagafen. Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe by whose will all things come to be, who creates the fruit of the vine.” Scott hoped he hadn’t mangled the Hebrew too badly as he sipped his wine before reaching over to carefully wash his hand in a bowl on a nearby table. Only after he’d dried his hands did he uncovered two loaves of bread shaped like a thick rope.

  “Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha-olam hamotzi lechem min ha'aretz.

  Blessed are you, Lord, our God, King of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth, Amen.” This time the amen was stronger as Scott broke the bread and passed it around the table.

  “Seeing as the Imams out there are calling the faithful to pray, I thought it necessary for us to do the same.”

  “Ho-ar!”

  “Shalom might be more appropriate, Marine.” Scott smiled.

  “Not feeling a lot of peace for these people right now, General.” Pam muttered.

  “True, but let us be at peace with ourselves this evening.” They all nodded, few doubted they ever celebrate
another Sabbath table. They all chorused ‘Shalom’ and toasted each other with the wine.

  “Where on earth did you manage to dig up a bottle of wine, Skipper?”

  “Wasn’t as hard as I thought. All I have to do is ask the local cook, and it turns out they like to use it in some of the local dishes, among other things.”

  “Yeah. I bet this lot do a lot of thing their religious leaders tell them not to do.”

  “It’s been a long time since I sat down to a Sabbath dinner, and thought it appropriate. Like they say, …why is this night different than other nights?...”

  “Because it’s the first Sabbath service of our new life in this new world we find ourselves in.”

  “Dahyenu, …It would have been enough for us…” Pam intoned. Scott and the other nodded.

  They sent the evening eating good food, enjoying the wine and company. For the moment they were one with no ranks or other military niceties to get in the way of the conversations. They even sang a few of the old songs, some meant for other occasions, but it didn’t matter. This dinner was more about preserving their heritage, despite what the local history of this time said.

  * * * * * *

  The historical material and training aids turned out to be a boon and a curse. The training aid consisted of a lounge chair and a helmet that plugged into a small electronic unit. You simply sat down, placed a memory crystal in the unit, put the helmet over your head, and relaxed. The information fed directly into the brain at high speed. Scott was the first one to try it, and in less than three days, he had absorbed all the history book, political science, math’s, geography and technical data supplied, ending up with a splitting headache. He now had a head full of chaotic images, and he found out later that you were only supposed to sit for one hour at a time, so the data didn’t start to sort itself out for a day or two. He found he could find the answer to many of the perplexing questions he wanted to ask but didn't know where to start. He now understood why he was having so much trouble communicating with the Doctor, Skinner, and the President about the military, and what a soldier was. There was nothing in any of the historical texts he’d read that had any mentioned of the world wars. All references to any form of conflict had been removed, erased from the record, right down to any word or derivative of a word connected with fighting in any form. It was as if none of the War's mankind had fought over the last six thousand years of human history had happened. The scale of the erasure was staggering to contemplate as it entailed even the name change of any place with a connection to war, such as Fort, Fortress, Castle, or Airbase. On a thought, he pulled up a world map and got another shock.

  It wasn’t a map as such, but more a panoramic ‘live earth’ hologram. It started out as a three dimensional Mercator projection he recognized, but that was about the only thing he did. By putting the light pen in a particular place, it was possible to zoom in to ground level. The first thing he notices was, that few if any of the countries were recognizable. The USA was gone, as were Russia, China, Mexico, and all the South American Countries. It took him a while to realize that what he was looking at was not the geopolitical map he was familiar with, but a corporate plan, with the world divided into economical zones. In a broad band, stretching from the Canadian border to the lower south-west was nothing more than one great farm. A closer look showed it produced cotton, wheat, soy, and barley, whereas great reaches of what was once California now produced fruits and vegetables. It was the same no matter where he looked, each region tagged with what it produced and in what quantity. There was a whole sub-directory for each corporate region that listed the population figures, number of workers, production estimates, pay scale and so much more, like some financial profit and loss ledger. There was nothing of the old cities. New York, Los Angeles, Kansas City were all gone, and a quick reference check showed that New York and Los Angeles along with most coastal cities were destroyed by flooding during the mini ice-age that struck about fifty years after he went into cold sleep. The rest were demolished by the world government in the years after that. In their place, the government had constructed mega cities with names like New Mecca, The City of Mohammed, The Holy city of Damascus, or similar derivatives. Many of the familiar places he once knew were gone, or just a blank spot on the map, such as the UK, Japan, and Korea.

  Places such as Jamaica, The Virgin Islands and the like are now corporate, private reserves, and he was betting they were for the exclusive use of the Corporate Directors. Out of curiosity, he zoomed in on Tehran, but instead of seeing ruins, or a rebuilt city, he saw only sand. Sand as far as the eye could see. So at least they hadn’t rebuilt the damn place, or set up some kind of monument. One oddity was that the old Mideast countries still existed, such as Saudi Arabia, Iran, Egypt and Syria, but they covered a much larger area now. Jordan was gone, as was Israel, Lebanon and Sudan. Overall, it was depressing, and he remembered the Ayatollah last words and shook his head. He’d been right, Islam had taken over everything. One world under god, and the god’s name was Allah. Scott felt a shiver run up his back. The one good thing was that these people had no idea what he and his people had done. He wondered how they would deal with him had they known. If this was the official version of history, did that mean they had managed to erase all private records as well? It also meant that Scott now had a real problem on his hands. How was he going to recreate all the panoply and implements of modern warfare without any reference books? There was only so much five hundred soldiers could remember about the science and technology behind any weapon. Did any of them, himself included, know how to construct a thermonuclear weapon, or a mass drive cannon? He didn't think so. He broached the question to Brock, Pete Mitchell, and Jeff Turner, who was now awake and up to date on what was happening.

  "You've got me, General.” Brock said with a shrug.

  "Hell, I can build you a crossbow, or even a muzzle loading rifle, but no way can this lot come up with the plans for a pulse laser or mass drive cannon."

  "Then the only thing we can do is wait until we get to New Zealand and look at what technology these people have and start from there. We all know the basic theory, let’s hope something we see suggests a way to turn it into a weapon.

  "Do we know any more about these aliens?” Pete asked.

  "The President sent over some memory chips of interview with people who saw some of the incidents, but so far nothing on the aliens themselves, mode of attack, craft, weapons, nothing."

  "Don't say it General, set up an Intel division and find out, right?” Pete asked.

  "You know what Gunny," He said, looking at Brock, "these improvements to our bodies is going to make my life a whole lot easier. I don't even have to give orders any more, I just think about them and they get carried out, isn't that wonderful.” Scott said with a smile.

  "Wonderful.” He agreed looking at the ceiling.

  "All right, all right, get off my ass, its only OSHA rated for one person at a time and there's someone all ready on it." Pete Mitchell said with a chuckle.

  "So if you already know the answer to the question, why ask, just tell me." Scott said with a raised eyebrow. Pete made a rude noise as he walked out, not even dignifying Scott last statement with an answer. Their laughter floating down the hallway after him and it sounded good. After the door slide shut, Brock leaned back with a sigh.

  “I wish the hell I knew what was going on, General. I still can’t take it all in.”

  “I feel the same way. The last thing I remember was going to sleep in a lab at Point Magu.”

  “Been there, did that.” Jeff added.

  “Yes, but why the hell did you?” Scott looked from one to the other.

  “I keep forgetting, you missed the last part of the dog and pony show.”

  “So tell me, fill in some of the gaps.” Brock did, telling Scott of the rush to disarm, and the President of the US, Russia, France, China, and the UK turning over all their nukes to the UN.

  “The UN finally got the military forces t
hey should have had from the beginning, and the mandate to use them.”

  “It was a pity that the President was assassinated before she could see the results of her work.” Jeff added.

  “Who killed her?”

  “No one knows, just that Air Force One blew up over the Rockies.”

  “And they never found out who?”

  “No, never did.”

  “So how come you all ended up in cold sleep?” Brock and Jeff Turned looked at each other sheepishly, then shrugged together.

  “Like the man said when he jumped into the cactus patch, it looked like a good idea at the time.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I know, but, well.” Jeff stammered to a stop.

  “The world changed, General. We no longer fitted.” Brock looked down at the floor. “They started disbanding the military and within a few years we were all out on the street, along with a lot of other unemployed servicemen with nothing to do. No jobs, no prospects, and most with no family to go home to.”